


Diamonds

by iloveitblue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fist Fights, M/M, meet cute, sort of, typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:11:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: Clint has been passed around from handler to handler and, quite frankly, Fury's had enough of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonwolfe22](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dragonwolfe22).



> This is for dragonwolfe22 who was one of the winners of my hiatus giveaway.
> 
> Unbeta'd so message me if you find any mistakes I made. :)

Rumors spread around SHIELD HQ faster than butter on toast. As such, it wasn’t a total surprise for Clint to be called in to speak to the Director, like a troubled teen getting called in to the Principal’s office. How lame was that? 

Clint stood at attention, he might be the troubled teen in this scenario but he knew perfectly well that going against Fury wasn’t in his best interest, waiting for the man’s final verdict.

He didn’t want to leave SHIELD. It was the best gig he’s had in years, even with the constant dickheads and assholes of handlers around, it was still better than the old jobs he’s had, which said a lot about Clint’s life.

Fury turned his chair around to face Clint as he read some files over. He sighed and put the papers down. Clint could tell that he wanted to massage his temples out of frustration but didn’t really see the point. 

“Agent Barton,” Fury began, already sounding tired, “Remind me again, how long have you been with SHIELD?”

“Almost six years, sir.” Clint answered proudly.

Fury nodded. “And remind me again how many handlers you’ve exhausted?”

“Sir, more than half of those weren’t even my-”

“Just,” Fury sighed, “Just give me a number, Agent.”

“Thirty six, sir.” Clint glared at his feet. 

“And if we add Jensen, your total comes to thirty seven. That means you literally had a new handler every two months. Do you understand why I’m frustrated with that fact?” 

Clint continued to glare at his boots, there was nothing he could say to make this situation better after all. 

“Look, I recruited you into SHIELD thinking you can help do some good in the world. Now, I’ve seen you in the field. I know that what I saw the first time I met you still rings true which is why I want you to keep on working for SHIELD but you can’t do that without a handler. If it was up to me, I’d have had you running around without a handler after your second month but the World Security Council insists that every specialist agent must have a handler. I can give you another handler but this can’t go on, you know that.”

“Yes sir.” Clint answered without looking at Fury.

Before Fury could get another word out, there came a knock on the door, and Coulson poked his head in, “Sir, there’s been a development at the Yangon base.”

Fury sighed, giving up any pretenses of getting through to Barton. “Dismissed Barton.” He motioned for Coulson to come in, and that was that. 

Coulson gave Barton a single nod when they passed each other but not much else. As soon as the door behind Barton closed, Coulson handed Fury the updated files that needed his review. 

“So, that’s Barton, huh?” Coulson asked. He’s heard things about the specialist before, none of them good. Just the other day, Agents Chu, Ramirez, and Cruz were sharing to Jensen different horror stories about the specialist - It wasn’t really that Phil was eavesdropping, it’s just that they should have known to take conversations like that to a more private setting if they didn’t want anyone to hear - and the stories they told were truly horrifying. 

According to Agent Chu, Barton never once listened to her. He always had to have his way or not work at all. Agent Ramirez insisted that Barton’s stubbornness knows no bounds as he didn’t care who got hurt while doing his task. Agent Cruz showed the group a scar on his collarbone where Barton had nicked him when their argument inevitably turned violent. Poor Jensen had paled and wondered out loud what he was supposed to do to get through to Barton.

“It is.” Fury sounded frustrated, “You want him?” 

Phil winced and shrugged, “I’d love to, but with the amount of work I already have, I can’t possibly go back to handling specialists.” 

Fury leered at him, “You’re such an asshole.”

“I learned from you, Marcus.” 

\---

Clint should be thankful Fury gave him one last shot. Others would not have been so nice. All he had to do was make nice with Jensen and he could keep his job. That sounded easy enough, right?

Clint landed on his ass so hard that he had to take a second to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth. He spit out the blood from the cut inside his cheek and sighed. So much for getting along with Jensen.

“I have had enough of your backtalk, Barton.” Jensen growled. “If you think you’re going to get any special treatment from me because you were handpicked by Director Fury, then you have another thing coming.” 

How many times has Clint heard this speech? How many more times will he have to hear it? He already knew he wasn’t special. He already knew that the only reason SHIELD still has him is because he’s useful. He already knew that he was replaceable. He didn’t need Jensen or anyone else telling him what he already knew. 

“What’s going on here?” A second voice intervened. 

Jensen huffed, “Just knocking some sense into my specialist, Agent Coulson, sir. Don’t worry, this doesn’t concern you.”

Clint got up off the ground and dusted himself off without looking at either of the men standing before him. It wouldn’t really make much of a difference anyway.

“It does if it impedes my current operation. Barton, get to medical. Have them check you over.” Clint knew a dismissal when he heard one, and that was definitely a dismissal. He gave them a nod and headed for medical, or at least made it look like he was headed for medical. Before he did, he managed to hear Coulson sermoning Jensen, “you should know that any and all concerns regarding a specialist’s behavior should be discussed during the debriefing and hitting your specialist to assert your authority is just pathetic.”

Clint smiled, thinking to himself that at least not all of SHIELD’s handlers were single-minded assholes.

\---

Phil Coulson just wanted to get this mission over with. He just wanted to go home, relax, maybe eat a slice of pizza or two, then pass out on his couch while watching bad television. Apparently, that was too much to ask for since every time he turned around, Jensen was on a one-way screaming match with Barton.

Jensen was too aware of Barton, which meant that every 2 minutes Jensen was yelling at Barton over the comms. Barton, for the most part, answered in short, decisive, sometimes one-worded answers but that seemed to annoy Jensen even more. God knows why.

The poor specialist looked like he couldn’t do anything right. Jensen even criticized Barton’s choice of weapon, saying that he couldn’t possibly fire that thing with as much accuracy as he could with a sniper’s gun. If the man preferred to do his job with a bow and arrow, then let the man be. As long as the job was done, who cared what weapon was used?

‘And another thing-’

“For crying out loud, Agent Jensen. You are on  _ public _ line. Unless your objective was to obliterate our eardrums, I suggest you pack your things up and head back to base.” 

‘But sir-’

“I believe I made myself clear” Jensen wasn’t around to see it, so the agents surrounding Coulson had to suffer the blunt of his annoyed stare. 

‘Yes, sir’ Jensen grit out, ‘Barto-’

“Leave the agents under your care. They have their orders, and so do you. Dismissed, Agent Jensen.” Phil kind of dreaded the amount of paperwork he was going to have to fill when this mission was over. Now that he’s dismissed Jensen, he’s going to have to take his half of the reports too. Another reason to hate incompetent handlers.

Phil outwardly sighed, startling more than a few Agents around, and refocused on the mission at hand. 

“Right, Agent Barton,” Phil spoke with the same calm he did before he had to dismiss Jensen. 

“Yes, sir.” was Barton’s immediate response. 

“Give me your position.” 

“Southwest corner of the roof of the Burnham Hotel, sir.” 

Phil turned to one of the monitors displaying the layout of the streets. The Burnham Hotel was way too far from the proposed nest. “Why are you there, Agent?”

“I- I’ll move right away, sir.”

It set of alarms in Phil’s head that that was Barton’s reply after he asked him a simple question, but saved it for a later conversation. “No, stay there. I just want to know why you chose that perch.” 

“It’s a clear shot from here to the entrance of the compound. Given the angle of elevation of the building, it’ll be harder to spot me from here than the building right in front of the compound, sir.” Barton explained. 

And it made sense. Rather than the proposed perch, which was a three story building in front of the compound, the Burnham Hotel, which was two blocks down the road, would be a safer choice. 

“Okay,” Phil nodded his head absently, “And you’re sure you can hit the mark?” 

Barton responded with what sounded like a snort which made Phil’s eyebrow rise in amusement, then Barton cleared his throat and answered with, “Yes, sir.” 

Phil had to try very hard not to smile when he said, “Proceed with the mission.”

\---

“I want him.” 

Fury swiveled around in his chair, both eyebrows up but with a bored stare as he looked Phil up and down then at the personnel folder that just landed on his desk. 

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t speak to me as if ordering another shot of tequila.” 

Phil ignored Fury and pointed to the personnel file, one which Fury was overly familiar with. “I want him. None of these bozos you call handlers know how to work with him, maximize his skillset. For God’s sake, Marcus, they had him running around cleaning guns.” Phil was exasperated. Of course he was, here was a diamond in the rust, needing a bit of polishing, and what has SHIELD done? Bury him in the ground. 

“Did you know he’s never had to fire more than one shot for every target? He never misses. He’s brilliant. He’s also very well trained with close hand combat, and he can use almost every weapon in the arsenal. He knows how to fly a quinjet, and he can perfectly disassemble and assemble one given the right tools. His background gives him the street smarts to know about trustworthy information or not, not to mention his ability to think on his feet when things start to go sideways. He’s also resourceful. Look at this,” Phil opened the file and pointed to one report filed by one of his previous handlers. Fury didn’t even look at it, knowing that Phil would tell him all about it. “A retrieval mission. In Boreal. Smack in the middle of a snowstorm. And he not only managed to keep himself alive with nothing but a pocket knife, but he’s also managed to keep the asset he was supposed to retrieve safe and alive as if they just went on the best camping trip ever.”

“I highly doubt, that’s what it says on the report-”

“For a week, Marcus. A week.” Phil felt the need to stress this out because Fury wasn’t getting it at all. 

Fury pretended to look at the file before he leaned back in his chair and gave Phil a bored look. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“I want him.” 

“I mean, there are regulations about senior agents asking junior agents out, but I think we can find a loophole somewhere.” Fury enjoyed this, ruffling Coulson’s feathers. 

“Marcus.” Phil grit out. 

Fury rolled his one good eye and leaned forward, closing the folder and handing it back to Phil. “I’ve been trying to throw this man at you for literal years, Cheese. If you want him, he’s yours.” 

Phil sighed in relief and walked out the door leaving Fury alone again. 

Fury looked down at his watch. He was going to give them a year before those two kill each other or bone. Probably both. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are gifts. :D


End file.
